While Walking Along the Seine
by Der Drache der Himmel
Summary: One evening, a young woman is walking along the Seine, and she meets a quite new personality s he rises from the waters . . . (yay! a continuation of 1925 Phantom! NOT an Erik-and-another-woman story)


The night was rather cool and calm as she walked along the serene waters of the Seine, inhaling deeply the fresh night air that she loved so much; it reminded her of home, back in Germany. The young woman stopped walking for a moment, her footsteps coming to a gradual halt as she listened to the silence of the dark, frosty evening, broken only by the night's symphony. She relished the silence, but could still hear bits of the angry voices that she had earlier; for, a few moments before, falling upon her ears were the noises of an angry crowd, and she could then distinguish many torches flaring brilliantly and defiantly against the night's calm ceiling of black, speckled by cold stars. The noise had died away by now, though, although it was still a dull, barely audible murmur that she had to strain her ears to hear; a few moments more, and it would be gone as the crowd returned to whence they came.   
The young woman began walking again, after pulling her coat more tightly around her and rewinding her scarf around her neck. Her dark brown eyes were cast towards the ground, almost watching her feet as she walked quietly along the still river's banks; occasionally, they flitted towards the Seine's tranquil waters, which were themselves making a barely perceptible noise that provided wonderful background music to the song the evening was already providing. She listened to this music for a moment, before beginning to hum herself, a lullaby that her mother had sung to her when she was a child.   
She continued this way for not too long, a lone figure dressed in black and white that fit in so well with the night, whose head was now beginning to fill with thoughts of home brought on by the lullaby whose melody she was carrying so well- even though she was a horn player, and not much of a singer, save this particular song. At that thought, she remembered how she had stuck out her tongue to the fact when she was a young girl, namely because her mother had a wonderful soprano voice, and sounded to her like an angel. But, then again, it could've just been that way to her . . .   
The brown-eyed woman was drawn out of her state of remembrance with a noise barely rising above that of the Seine's waters, like she could hear someone swimming in it; but who would do such a thing on so frigid a night- actually, who would want to do that at all? The Seine was probably not one of the cleanest rivers in France. This aroused a certain curiosity in her, causing her to halt once again in order to determine what was causing the sound.   
She was standing on the banks when she saw a black form pull themself out of the water, which was now dripping down in great torrents from them as they stood themself upright; they were obviously quite soaked, and who wouldn't be after taking a swim in the Seine? In the dim light thrown this far by the street lamps, she could barely discern the fact that they were wearing evening clothes- something that was even more odd than the fact that they were in the Seine to begin with. She could hear heavy breathing, presumably coming from this new being near her, and it occurred to her that they probably exhausted; this denoted that they probably didn't want to be in the Seine in the first place, that they had been forcibly thrown in, or convinced into jumping in. She just stood silently for a few moments, letting them catch their breath, before she took a step towards them.   
They noticed this, and looked up at her; she couldn't see their face in the blackness, but could make out two gleams where their eyes should've been. The both of them stood in silence for a moment, until she finally found the courage to speak.   
"A wonderful evening, isn't it? Although, I suppose it wouldn't be as nice, if one were swimming in the Seine."   
Her French was wretched, but what surprised her- to some degree- was the fact that it was steady, and it sounded like she was in total command; it usually did, but it sometimes faltered when talking to strange people.   
The other being just stood there for a few moments, not replying, and it seemed to her for a moment that her comment had fallen upon deaf ears. That was only a moment, though- and then, they spoke.   
"I would agree, but not so wonderful as you would think, mademoiselle."   
The first thing that caught her off guard was his voice- for she now definately recognized this new being as a he; it was so beautiful, angelic even, with all the tremor of a trained singer- but if it were so, then he was the best in the world, eclipsing all of the others without even trying. The next thing that surprised her was how he had managed to know that she was unmarried, since she hadn't made anything close to an allusion to that particular fact before.   
"And why would that be?"   
There were a few almost awkward moments of silence as the figure regained his breath enough to speak properly, then stood himself fully erect; and she noticed that she was as tall as he. But then again, she had always been tall . . .   
"For reasons you could never fully comprehend, mademoiselle." A certain tone of bitterness now crept into his voice. "Especially when one has been forcibly thrown into the Seine, and after losing everything they held dear."   
Melancholy joined its comerade, bitterness, in his angelic voice, and she could tell without thinking that he was speaking of his own troubles and that they cut very deeply into his emotions. But, oh, how he didn't know just how much she understood, so the thought. She knew what it was like to be cut off from your family, and everything you loved . . .   
"I fully comprehend just how it feels, monsieur- after all, I have been cut off from my family for three years, because I am quite obviously in Paris and they are still back in Germany, my homeland."   
The gleams for his eyes gave off an even brighter sheen for a moment, and she thought that he must have placed her accent, if he could understand her words at all; her German upbringing made any language other than her native tongue quite slurred. At this, she added, "Yes, monsieur, I am proud to call Germany my home. I am studying in Paris right now, and I round it all off as a horn player in the Paris Opera's orchestra. As a matter of fact," she said, after briefly pausing to rub some warmth into her frigid nose with a handkerchief, "I can bear witness to you of some quite extraordinary events, including the dropping of the chandelier of the Palais Garnier, and the kidnapping of a certain opera singer- Mademoiselle Christine Daae, I believe- off the stage during the middle of a performance. It was tonight, actually; in all the uproar following such an act, I managed to slip my horn into a hiding-place at the Opera House, then come out here. And I am inclined to tell you that you have just missed a great hubbub, because an angry mob passed by here not too long ago."   
The other figure was silent after all of her words, save his labored breathing, which had returned to trouble him. It seemed to her as though her speech had brought some great pain upon him, and she took another step forward, in order to find out more distinctly the cause of this.   
Still breathing heavily, he himself took a step forward and said, "If you would be so obliged as to step back, mademoiselle, I would be pleased."   
So she stepped back.   
"Again, if you don't mind, mademoiselle."   
She obeyed once more.   
"And once more, if you please."   
This time, she took multiple steps backward, into the remnants of a pool of light cast onto the ground by a street lamp, and listened without showing any emotion as she heard the other being walk forward quite calmly, with a certain cat-like grace that seemed inhuman. It was only a matter of seconds before he stood at the edge of the pool of light, and something passed through her that she couldn't identify.   
The owner of such an angelic voice didn't exactly match with it- his slightly upturned nose, long and narrow, came to a sharp point between even sharper cheekbones that pulled the rest of his face out of shape, a fact that couldn't draw her eyes from the thin lips that couldn't conceal yellowed teeth jutting in a twisted fashion over the lower lip. His mouth didn't look like it could ever fully close, and it threw even more horror into the already ghastly appearance of his face, especially with the thought that it belonged to someone LIVING. But what drew her gaze more were the sunken eyes, in an already hollow face, pale golden orbs ringed with the same blackness as the dark shadows around him.   
She inhaled sharply, for the dim light coming from the ornately wrought street lamp cast an even more unearthly pallor over his already death-like face, making it look like he was some specter come back to haunt the living. This didn't escape him, and, at the sound of it, he took a step back into the darkness. The sudden movement caused the heavy cloak soaked through with water that hung from his shoulders to billow up around him.   
After taking a brief moment to recover from the shock, the young woman took a step forward, to where she could just discern his figure, hidden among the shadows; she said to him, "I'm sorry, it was terribly rude of me behave in such a manner. Will you forgive me?"   
She accentuated this by holding out one gloved hand.   
There was a moment of silence in which neither on of them spoke, and they only thing to be heard was his labored breathing over the quiet waters of the Seine- even as she inhaled and exhaled the cool night air, she could not be heard. The air was heavy and pervasive, and it seemed to weigh down on the both of them as if would crush them both if it had the chance.   
She could feel a slong, slender hand take hers.   
The brown-eyed woman drew him back into the circle of light, noticing how his amber eyes gleamed with its reflection as she did so. She released his hand, stepping backwards and telling him, "I do believe I know who you are, monsieur. I have seen you around the opera house before, have I not?"   
She smiled wryly, causing her brown eyes to flicker with inward laughter. This caused a somewhat confused expression to cross his face, although it was hard for her to tell with the deformed features and how tightly his sallow skin was drawn over those jutting cheekbones- the only way she could read his emotions was in his amber eyes. But she did manage to understand the emotion behind this, and gave a short laugh, before saying, "No, monsieur, I am not frightened. I am from Germany, and was raised in the country. Not many things scare me."   
And she gave another short laugh.   
The young woman turned her gaze back to him, and the wry smile was replaced by a softer one that threw an almost angelic light over her features, partly because of the street lamp's pale glow. She only stared at him like this for a moment, before she said, "The night is cold, and it is not good for one who is dripping wet from having swum in the Seine to be at the mercy of the wind- I've tested him before, and he becomes displeased by such insolence. You should try and find someplace warm- but if that mob that I just heard was after you, I would recommend not returning to the Opera House for quite some time; I don't think you'd be welcome there. But you'd always be welcome to come to what I call home- not the best of places, I'm afraid, though quite warm. If you so choose, I'm not hard to find; everybody knows the tall German girl who came from her homeland to study in Paris. Just ask."   
So saying, she turned around, and begin to walk away with long, lazy strides that seemed unbefitting of a young woman, even if she was wearing a black overcoat that she had buttoned up to her chin. She had only walked a few paces when she turned around, calling over her shoulder, "Then it's au revoire for now, hmm, Monsieur l'Fantome?"   
The woman turned on her heel and walked off into the night, occasionally becoming illuminated as she stepped into an crossed the pale pools of light thrown off by the street lamps; it wasn't long before she had disappeared in the shadows, but he could hear her beginning to hum something slow and melancholy long after he lost sight of her.   
And Erik, the phantom who had once more evaded death at the hands of an angry mob, could only watch in silence at the German woman whose life had already begun to impact his. 


End file.
